


Pelt

by mm_coconut



Category: Baba Yaga (Fairy Tale), Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm_coconut/pseuds/mm_coconut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, in a field in the forest, a wolf knocked on her door. “It is me, Grandmother,” he said, in a high voice. “I have brought wine and cake.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pelt

**Author's Note:**

> ([52 weeks challenge](http://mehcoconut.tumblr.com/post/136601783617), week 3 prompt: [A retelling of a fairy tale](http://mehcoconut.tumblr.com/post/137994988372).)

Once upon a time, in a field in the forest, a wolf knocked on her door. “It is me, Grandmother,” he said, in a high voice. “I have brought wine and cake.”

“Did your mother send you, or do you come of your own free will?” the grandmother asked, in a voice that rattled inside her skeleton chest.

“Mother sent me. Let me in, Grandmother,” the wolf demanded.

“Very well. Come in,” the grandmother said from deep inside her house.

The door opened with a great crash. The wolf surged in and gobbled the grandmother up, all the skin and bones of her, in a single swallow.

*

*

*

Inside the belly of the wolf, it was dark but not quiet: the beating of that monstrous heart thundered all around and the stomach growled with constant hunger. But wolves are not the only creatures that are hungry. Theirs are not the sharpest fangs in the forest.

The grandmother stretched her bony legs and arms wide, as if waking up from a pleasant sleep, and with her iron teeth, began to eat.

*

*

*

The door opened with a great crash. Her grandmother was sweeping the floor clean with her broom of silver birch, wearing a cape of black fur.

“What a lovely new cloak you have, Grandmother,” the girl said.

The grandmother shed the pelt from her gaunt body, turning it over so that the black fur lining settled on her granddaughter’s pretty white dress. She ran a gnarled hand down the outside of the cloak, which was red as blood.

“All the better to warm you with, Vassochka.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to molly, who suggested a Baba Yaga POV when I whined @ her for ideas. All Baba Yaga references are based on my vague memories of reading stories about her, plus some quick internet searching, so if I got anything wrong it is all Wikipedia's fault.


End file.
